


Grow a pair and go out there

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Dean is hella nice and hella cute, F/M, First Dates, Harvard University, John Winchester Being an Asshole, Original Character(s), POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 02:40:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4122874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first fic, I hope it doesn't suck too much. Not beta'ed. And I'm really bad at finding titles.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, I hope it doesn't suck too much. Not beta'ed. And I'm really bad at finding titles.

Fuck. I'm gonna be late to my anthropology class. Great. The professor is such a dick whenever a student is late. Actually, he's always a dick, but more so if you're late.  
As I run through the different corridors of the Human Evolutionary Biology Department of Harvard, I can feel the eyes of the other students and the occasional errant professor trained on me. It's not everyday you see a Freshman running around, backpack carelessly slung on their shoulder, books crammed in their arms, and in my case, their bed head hair in a tangle of brownish-blond flowing swiftly behind.  
Out of breath I arrive before the dark double doors that hide the anthropology class. I glance at my phone and see…oh fuck…I'm 24 minutes late. I throw my books in my bag, square my shoulders and knock on the imposing doors.  
"Come in!", says the haggard-sounding voice of my professor.  
I open the right door, and quickly slip into the lecture hall of the HEB department.  
"Oh, what do we have here? Alexandria Greenfield, you are 24 minutes late to class. What do you have to say for yourself?", croons Mr. Azazel.  
God, I hate him, and the feeling is reciprocated - I corrected him in class once.  
"Nothing, sir. Please excuse my tardiness." I say meekly, I may hate him but I can never meet his creepy, yellowish eyes.  
"Nothing. Hmmph." He smiles that sadistic smile of his, before continuing, "alright Ms. Greenfield go sit down, you've made us waste enough class time as it is."  
"Yes, Mr. Azazel." I hate how shy my voice sounds, but I never feel like I can stand up to him with his sickly, yellow eyes, pale skin and that smirk. Malevolent. Sadistic. I try not to shiver as I walk to my seat is; I can feel his stare following my movements.  
I look at where my seat is, and see that's it's taken. Fine, it's not like it was really /mine/. My friends shoot me sorry-looking glances, and I just shrug. It's fine. It really is. everyone in the anthropology course is really nice, so it's not a big deal.  
"Do we have a problem, Ms. Greenfield? Why are you not seated yet?" says Mr. Azazel.  
"Umm…no, sir. I just can't find a seat."  
"There's one next to Winchester. Now go sit."  
"Yes, Mr. Azazel."  
I walk toward my seat next to Winchester. Dean Winchester. The dirty blond haired, apple green eyed heartthrob of Harvard. He looks at me and smiles. Oh fuck. I can feel heat rushing to my cheeks. I'm blushing, like a middle school girl with a crush. Okay, I'm a college girl with a crush, but still, blushing…why must life be so cruel.  
Keep walking, Alex, just walk and sit down. Okay, take out your notebook and pen -  
"Hey, Alexandria, right?" Says the green-eyed beauty that is Dean.  
I nod quickly, and say "yeah, but everyone calls me Alex."  
He smiles again and says,"so, Alex, would you have any paper? I ran out."  
"Um, sure."  
I pass him a sheet, and he says his thanks and turns back to the class.  
Oh right, I'm in class. I turn my attention to my creepy professor as he drones on talking about the different types of cultures in Africa and Europe.  
The lecture continues for the remainder of the class without a hitch. I fully immersed myself in the lecture to keep a certain blond haired student out of my mind.  
"Here." Says a voice from my left. Speak of the devil.  
I see that Dean's handing me a sheet of paper, and I shoot him a quizzical look.  
"I realized I had extra sheets in my bag, so I wanna pay ya back."  
"Okay, um thanks…"  
"Sure, no problem," he smiles. "My name's Dean by the way."  
"Y-yeah, I know."  
Dean opens his mouth to say something, but quickly closes it as one of his friends call him.  
"Sorry, gotta go. See ya around." With that and a wink, he went to join his friends.  
I walk to my dorm room on autopilot.  
What the hell just happened? Did Dean Winchester - THE Dean Winchester - wink at me? No, I must of imagined it.  
I sigh and get my homework out of my bag. Thank God, Anthro 104 was my last and only class before lunch.  
I start writing on the sheet that Dean gave me, and I finish the the front of it, so I turn it to continue my Biology essay. That's when I see it. Numbers. A phone number.  
My heart skips a beat. Is this Dean's number? No, no way, Dean Winchester would never give his number to a girl like me. I mean, my hair was a mess, I didn't have any makeup on. Dean goes for girls like Lisa Braeden - perfect hair, perfect skin, charming personality.  
Okay, Alex, grow a pair. You're gonna call that number and see what happens.  
It rings and rings, with each ding my anxiety rises and finally:  
"You've reached Dean Winchester. Leave your name, phone number and nightmare"  
/beep/  
"Um, hi, it's Alex, from Anthro 104. I just…um…okay, why did you write your number down?"  
I press the end call button on my phone and all of a sudden I can't breathe. Fuck, did I really just do that? I'm a goddamn idiot. I just left a message to my crush asking why he left me his number…what the hell is wrong with me?  
For fifteen excruciating minutes, I was having a panic attack until, my phone starts ringing. Curious, I look and immediately recognize the number. It's Dean. Dean is calling me. He must of heard my message. I'm so screwed. I let the call go to voicemail, wait what? He's leaving a message?  
After a few minutes, I regain my constantly fleeting courage and listen to the voicemail.  
Dean's rough voice comes out of my phone,"hey Alex, it's Dean. So you're not picking up, I'll just leave this message then. Alright, I gave you my number cause I was hopin' you'd call and I'd ask you out. So Friday night, 7pm, Pinocchio's Pizzeria? Bye."  
Holy. Mother. Of. God. Dean just asked me out. Dean Winchester - the hottie with blond hair, green eyes and freckles - asked me out. On Friday, which is tomorrow. Fuck. Okay, I can do this. My insecurities choose that time to show their ugly heads. What if this is a joke? Let's prank the nerd kind of thing? No, Dean's a nice guy. He wouldn't do that. Yeah, it's decided, I'm going.  
I spend the rest of the day finishing my biology homework, before heading to bed with anxiety buzzing through me, but it doesn't feel overwhelming, it's just butterflies.  
On Friday, I have class till 4, and I don't see Dean. I text him saying that I'll be at Pinocchio's at 7pm, and he replied with a simple "see u there :)"  
After Paleo 103, I dash to my dorm room, leaving behind me a trail of "hey, slow down"s, but I can't slow down; I have a date with Dean Winchester. The hot, impossibly nice Dean Winchester. Fine, he sometimes acts like a bastard, but so do I.  
In my room, I fling the closet door open and go straight for the navy blue skater dress, white tights and gray sweater. I quickly take a shower and get changed. I brush my brown-blond hair and braid it into a fishtail braid. I steal my roommate's makeup since I don't have what I need. I apply mascara, black eye liner, and I somehow manage to do smokey eye on both my eyelids without fucking up…too much.  
I realize it's almost 6:30, and in a flurry of motions, I put on my dragon earring on the right ear and a black stud on the left, a silver necklace, my glasses and unceremoniously shove my feet into my gray combat boots.  
It's 6:37 when I leave Harvard campus. I decide to walk to the pizzeria because it's a cool spring evening, the sun low in the sky, casting pinkish, orange lights in the light blue sky. The walk to Pinocchio's helps calm my nerves. I pass by a few people, some of them couples, during the 20 minute stroll.  
At 6:50, I see the red and white building of the pizzeria and the previously calming walk now seems like walking to death row. Really, Alex? Comparing your date with Dean to an execution?


	2. Chapter 2

I walk into the air-conditioned pizzeria and look around trying to find Dean. I glance at my phone and see that I’m ten minutes early, guess I’ll just have to wait. I look around once more in case I’d missed him, and sure enough, I had. He’s sitting at a booth in the corner of the room. He’s wearing a green plaid shirt and jeans, and appears to be on his phone. I walk over and clear my throat. Real smooth, Alex.  
“Oh, hey, Alex, didn’t see you there,” Dean says with a smile.  
“It’s fine, I hope you weren’t waiting too long.”  
“Nah, I just got here a lil early. Go ahead, sit,” he says gesturing to the seat across from him.  
I sit down and scoot a bit until I’m facing him. My curiosity starts bubbling under my skin, butterflies now flying to and fro in a stomach. The curiosity gets the better of me and I ask Dean why he wanted to go on a date…with me. He stares at me with a look between perplexed and somewhat amused. Curiosity killed the cat.  
“Cause you seem nice, and that time you corrected the professor was just awesome. And also, you’re cute,” replies Dean with that perfect smile of his.  
…And it seems satisfaction brought it back. I duck my head a bit, trying to hide my smile and blush. I feel my blush recede a bit, and divert my gaze to the menu.  
“So, what do you usually order?” I ask trying to make conversation, small talk really isn’t my thing.  
“Hamburger.”  
I shot him an incredulous look. “In a pizzeria?”  
“What? They’re good. What’re you gonna order?”  
“Cheese pizza.”  
“Oh, come on, live a little.”  
“What? They’re good,” I say repeating his words. He grins at me.  
“At least you’re not ordering salad.”  
“Rabbit food? I only eat it if I have to.” My anxiety seems to have completely dissipated. Dean makes it easy to be relaxed.  
He chuckles. “That’s what I tell my brother.”  
“You have a brother?”  
“Yeah, his name’s Sam. He’s a freshman at Stanford,” Dean says with a proud smile. He picks up his phone again and shows me a picture of a man with shaggy chestnut hair and a friendly smile. He swipes to the next photo. This time Dean’s brother – Sam – is standing next to a blond woman. “And that’s his girlfriend Jess.”  
“Woah, Sam’s kinda tall.”  
Dean chuckles again. “Yep, and I’m the older brother. We’re four years apart.”  
“Four years apart, but you’re also a freshman?”  
Dean begins to reply just as the waitress comes to take our order. Once she leaves, he looks at me and continues his train of thought.  
“Right, see, my dad wanted us to continue the family business. And I did. But when Sammy decided he wanted to go to college and not work as a mechanic, he sorta convinced me to go to college. My grades in high school weren’t great, but weren’t horrible either, and I just worked really hard on my application. My dad was, well, he, let’s just say he wasn’t very supportive, but my uncle was, and helped both me and Sam get into college.” He rushed his words, and looked at the table. I stay silent for a while.  
“Crap, I’m sorry.” I don’t really know what to say.  
“Nah, it’s fine,” he says with a sad smile. “What about your family?”  
“Well, there isn’t much to say. My mom doesn’t work, my dad works for an oil company, and my brother wants to study Quantum Physics.”  
“Quantum Physics?” Dean says with a laugh. “Looks like he kinda out-smarts all of us. We’re both studying biology, Sammy’s majoring in law.”  
I chuckle as the waitress sets down our food.


End file.
